The Frightenmares
by Rety
Summary: Behold, citizens of San Anponyo! The Great and Powerful Trixie is here, to aid you helpless ponies who tremble at night, afraid of the ghosts that haunt this world. But fear no longer, for I, the Great and Powerful Trixie will rid you of such vexatious spirits! For an additional fee, I will even bring you into contact with the spirits of those you love most!


The rain had stopped falling as soon as Trixie had reached the safety of the eaves. The mare sighed, rivulets of water streaming down her cloak and onto the cobblestone, forming a small, private lake. She shook herself off, cloak whipping as she did so. A soft light shone around the conical wide-brimmed hat she wore. It lifted itself off her head, floated away and then wrung itself out before returning to her head. She clopped her hooves on the ground and sighed, bracing herself.

Lifting a hoof, she rapped on the door. It was painted a garish shade of green, and the paint had started to peel. The door opened to reveal a lavender earth-pony with a poofy blonde mane.

"Are you the–"

"Great and Powerful Trixie?" the unicorn asked with a toss of her head, rolling the R in her name longer than seemed possible. "Yes." The Great and Powerful Trixie did not need an invitation, and thus barged her way into the house.

"I'm Lovelace, and I just want to say how glad I am that you're here–"

"Yes, yes," said the Great and Powerful Trixie. "You're absolutely _scared_ to death that something _terrible_ is going to happen if your – shall we say 'problem'? – doesn't go away?"

"That's exactly it." The earth pony ran a hoof through her mane, with a quick, darting look around. "More so, I'm afraid for the fillies… They're such good children."

A rubber ball struck Trixie in the face. It bounced on the floor a few times. A little filly ran up, grasped the ball in its mouth and ran off again.

"Yes," said the Great and Powerful Trixie, rubbing her eye. "They seem so well-adjusted. Already Trixie regrets being an only child. Now, the Great and Powerful Trixie must be paid in advance. Please tell me you have it."

"Of course," Lovelace replied, producing a bag. "Two hundred and fifty bits, just like you asked." She paused and looked down. When she looked up, her voice was no longer clear, and her eyes "We had to save up for months, and little Sorrel even sold some of her favourite toys."

Trixie ensorcelled the bag, lifting it up with her unicorn magics and secreted it somewhere in the voluminous folds of her cloak. "Take me to the source of the haunting."

Lovelace nodded and started towards a hallway, Trixie following every step of the way. They came to a room, obviously one of the fillies'. Toys were scattered everywhere. It looked like an Ursa Major had rampaged its way through the room.

"Very well." Trixie cleared her throat. "The Great and Powerful Trixie requires privacy. Too many others might disturb the ethereal flow… and upset the ectoplasmic balance."

"Oh. Is that bad?"

"Very!" The unicorn's voice rose a bit. "Have you never seen the result of an ectoplasmic imbalance?"

"Er. No."

"Then consider yourself lucky. Now. Great and Powerful Trixie. Privacy. Shoo."

Lovelace backed out of the room, and turned back to the den where it sounded like the fillies were disemboweling each other with broomsticks. Trixie shut the door, walked to the middle of the room, cleared a space, and sat down on her haunches.

She yawned and shook her cap off. Her horn glowed, and the room turned green. Making sure that the green light shone under the door, Trixie anchored the light spell and began to cast another spell. This spell shook the whole room. Trixie made sure to yell loudly and unintelligibly. It was not her intention to be understood, simply to be heard.

After a few minutes of her dazzling, show-stopping abilities, Trixie ended both spells. Normal sunlight flowed in through the slats in the window. The room was messier than before, which was a feat in itself.

Tired, she cast a spell to open the door. The act of keeping two very different spells going at once was an exhausting process, but not as much as she acted. Trixie dragged herself out to the den, making sure to act more fatigued than she really was. Swaying from side-to-side, dragging her hooves, they were all part of the charade.

Lovelace and three fillies stared wide-eyed at her. The filly who had thrown the ball at her dropped it, a string of drool hanging from her lip.

"The Great and Powerful Trixie always delivers. Your house is ghost-free."

Lovelace threw her hooves around Trixie. The unicorn froze, a stricken look spreading across her face. "Thank you! You have no idea what it was like-"

Trixie shoved the earth-pony off. "No free hugs!" At the last second, she managed to inject a bit of false levity. Regaining her composure, she said, "It was no small feat, but seeing as how I _am_ the greatest pony in all of Equestria…" She smiled. "I'm afraid the Great and Powerful Trixie must go now, for there is always someone in need of her special talents."

The unicorn started for the door. Halfway through, she paused and turned back. "And remember to tell your friends about the Great and Powerful Trixie – Medium _and_ Ghostbuster! All for one low price!"

The next few days were some of the most profitable Trixie had known. Lovelace had done well informing her friends, and her friends had spread the word even farther. Trixie was now the most well-known and popular pony in the town of San Anponyo. She was making money hoof over hoof, and soon she'd have enough to finish repairs to her wagon.

Trixie was currently in the process of a séance. Séances were probably the most common job she had to do, and one of the trickiest. The trick was to gather enough information on the "summoned ghost" before starting and to string together just enough vague proclamations to make everyone feel happy. All that extra work meant more stress for her, and she hated it.

It was much harder than making things glow and fly around, and for that reason Trixie charged a little bit more. "It's harder to get a ghost to stay and chat than it is to drive one away," she'd say with a sniff and a toss of her mane. Ponies everywhere would nod and say "Yeah, that seems about right."

Trixie's current séance had to do with a well-to-do pegasus who was eager to learn what was going on in the afterlife of her father (_Hint_, Trixie thought. _He's dead. Nothing is going on_), and she arranged a little party to show off Trixie to her friends. It was a win-win as far as Trixie was concerned.

"We're so excited!" the pegasus crowed as Trixie doffed her hat and sat at the table. A set of white and black candles sat in the middle of the table, just as she had asked. The pegasus's friends all gathered around.

Trixie held up a hoof to silence them. "The Great and Powerful Trixie will now commune with the spirits. Please join hooves. It helps with the flow of spirit juices."

The ponies joined their hooves together, even Trixie. She didn't particularly like having to. The sacrifices you make for money…

The lights dimmed, and Trixie magicked the candles into lighting. Long, spidery shadows were cast on the floor by the flickering of the candles. Trixie stared slowly across the room, keeping a set of pictures in her peripheral vision.

"Everypony close your eyes. Spirits are easily startled. We wouldn't want to scare them, would we?"

Murmurs of "No"s greeted her in response, and the ponies all shut their eyes, eagerly awaiting the séance. Trixie magicked some fog into existence – it was rather amazing how the feeling of fog could trick ponies into thinking ghostly things were happening.

"I feel a presence," announced Trixie. She always started like this – vague proclamations always make them titter. "I see an older gentlepony… handsome in a refined sort of way." She popped one eye open, fixing it on the pictures she noticed earlier. "A grayish blue mane… pale yellow coat…"

"That's my da'!" shouted the pegasus with glee.

Trixie squinted at the pictures. "And he wants to know about… a parrot."

"Mister Clackers!" The pegasus, eyes still shut, turned her head towards Trixie. "That was his pet. They never went anywhere without each other."

"Very nice," Trixie said, boredom seeping into her voice. "What happened to… Mister Clackers?"

"He died. In the same accident that my dad died in. Shouldn't he know that?"

"Not even the Great and Powerful Trixie knows about the intricacies of the spirit world. Now quiet, he's trying to say something…" She paused a moment. "He says he hopes your fillies are doing well, and he'd love to stay and chat about meaningless trivia, but it's almost time for tea."

"Ghosts drink tea?"

"Spectral tea." Trixie paused again. "He's gone. You may open your eyes now."

As soon as the ponies' eyes opened, a steady stream of chatter filled the room. Despite the threadbare line of balderdash she had fed them, everypony was genuinely excited. Judging from their speech, they all thought that they each had somehow been "touched" during the séance.

Trixie merely nodded to each and said some generic platitudes before exiting several hundred bits richer. At this rate, she could afford the repairs in a few weeks. Trixie practically skipped with joy to her wagon.

Night fell, and with it, the number of ponies hoping for a few minutes with their new idol, Trixie. Soon there was nopony anywhere near her wagon. With a sigh, Trixie shut the door and locked it. She felt dead inside – the constant jobs in town were wearing her down. Still, she'd soon have enough money to finish fixing what the Ursa Minor had destroyed. _And then I can leave this awful town_, she thought.

A familiar sense of vertigo buzzed through her mind as she stepped over to her mirror. The magical properties of her wagon never failed to make her queasy.

"Another day, another set of gullible fools," she said with a sigh, running a brush through her mane.

A light rap at her door made Trixie freeze mid-brush. Her eyes widened in irritation and began to twitch. Clopping angrily over to the door, she swung the top half open, almost striking a sheepish-looking stallion in the face. His light-blue mane swished as he dodged the blow.

"_What."_

The stallion smiled and laughed nervously, shifting his maroon eyes around. "Uhhh, you're… the Great and Powerful Trixie?"

"Who else would I be?" she asked with a flip of her mane.

"Oh. Well, good. Um, I really need your help, Miss Trixie."

"Great and Powerful."

"Er?"

"I am the Great and Powerful Trixie. Never 'Miss Trixie'. Ever. I mean, does the Great and Powerful Trixie look like some sort of cider-swilling school teacher?" She tapped her hooves impatiently, waiting for his answer.

He stared blankly until he realised what was expected from him. "Err, no?"

"Exactly!"

The stallion blinked twice. "Er. Well, my name's Reggie, and like I said, I really need your help… oh, Great and Powerful Trixie."

"It's too late for the Great and Powerful Trixie tonight. She needs her beauty sleep." Trixie slammed the door in his face with a smug grin.

Undeterred, he stepped right through the door. Understandably, Trixie did the only thing any sensible pony would do in such a situation: she screamed.

"Oh. Wait, no, don't scream!" Reggie took another step forward, but that just made Trixie scream louder. "Alright, it is a bit unsettling, isn't it? Yes, I am a ghost. A real, live ghost. Wait, I suppose I'd be a real _dead_ ghost, then. Okay, it doesn't matter. What does matter: I am a ghost. I need your help. Pretty simple, really."

Trixie continued screaming.

"I thought you were a medium!"

Trixie stopped screaming. "I _am_! I'm just not a _ghost_ medium."

"I wasn't aware there was any other kind." An accusatory tone had come into his originally pleasant voice.

"I'm a fake," she said, voice quiet. She looked away, trying to avoid locking gazes with him. Whenever she was forced to admit such a thing, she always had a heavy feeling within her, like a weight on her heart.

"Sorry?"

"I'm a fake!"

Reggie took a step back, a miasma of doubt and sadness clouding his face. "You… aren't real. But that séance earlier today…"

"It was terrible, even by my standards. I can't help you."

"Yes you can," Reggie said. "All I need is for you to tell someone something. If you can fake that, you can do this."

Silence filled the wagon for a long time. Her mind raced. On one hand, he was a ghost. On the other, he was a ghost. Maybe they could work something out? _No_. She shook her head to relieve herself of that thought. He seemed entirely too nice to help her bedazzle crowds.

Looking around, still avoiding meeting the eyes of the ghost, Trixie came to a realization. He was not going to leave her alone unless she forced him to. And there was only one way to do that.

"No. I don't work unless I get paid. Am I the Great and Powerful Trixie, or am I a charity?" Her voice was halting at first, but she finally mustered up the courage to be at least half as bold as she had been.

"Would it be the first one?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. Now get out."

There was another pause. Reggie shook his head and turned to leave. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"I'm not going to change my mind," Trixie said with a huff. But it was pointless; Reggie had already left. Trixie sniffed and tossed her mane. It wasn't _her_ fault that he was going to be stuck-up about it.

"For the last time _no_," hissed Trixie, peering at Reggie from beneath the brim of her cap. "I won't help you. I need to get paid, and ghost money isn't accepted by most banks."

"Well I'm sorry you feel that way," he replied. "I didn't want to have to do this, but it looks like the only way you'll listen to me." His form wavered and vanished.

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief and kicked open the door. She was supposed to have started a séance fifteen minutes ago, but Reggie had caught her before she could go in. The surprising thing was that she didn't _dislike_ Reggie… In fact, she quite wished that she could get him to help her with her fake hauntings. But the fact that he'd been haunting her for over a week was grinding on her nerves.

A group of ponies, including the pegasus from the day before, were gathered around a table. "It's about time," muttered one.

She ignored the rude pony and sat at her place at the head of the table. Trixie was about to motion for them to close their eyes and join hooves when the pegasus spoke up. "Excuse me, Great and Powerful Trixie? It's little Epiphany's birthday next week and-"

"The Great and Powerful Trixie does not do birthdays. Hire a clown. Now stay quiet and join hooves, all of you. Also close your eyes."

They all closed their eyes and joined their hooves, smiles on their muzzles as they braced themselves for the incredible séance Trixie was going to perform.

"Oh spirits of the Nether…y Place, come to me…" Trixie intoned, popping one eye open to scan the room for any mementoes she could find.

"YES, THIS IS THE SPIRIT REALM. WHO IS THIS?"

Trixie popped her other eye open in shock. "Who is that?" asked a pony, twisting around to see who had spoken even though her eyes were still shut.

"I… am… the Great and Powerful Trixie, of course." Beads of sweat were dripping down Trixie's face.

_Could I really be an actual medium? It wouldn't surprise me. I wonder what a medium cutie mark would look like. _

"Who are you?" she asked with a lump in her throat.

"I AM SIR… REG…ULUS, KNIGHT OF, UH, SMASHING SMALL THINGS. I AM VERY DISPLEASED WITH YOUR, UH, SERVICES. BEHOLD MY POWER!"

The chandelier above them started to swing, and there was a loud crash as several photos fell from their place on a cabinet.

"ER. DON'T MIND THOSE."

"You're a knight of smashing small things?" Trixie asked, looking up at the chandelier with a doubting frown.

"IN LIFE I WAS. IN DEATH… ER, I GUESS I JUST SHOUT AT MORTALS I'M DISPLEASED WITH. BUT ANYWAY, YES I AM **ESPECIALLY** DISPLEASED WITH YOU… DON'T YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY?"

Trixie sighed. She had a bad feeling about this, but the only thing she could do right now was play along with… well, whatever this spirit wanted. "Why?"

"YOU HAVE SPURNED A SPIRIT'S CRY FOR HELP. UNLESS YOU DESIRE YOUR PATHETIC MORTAL LIFE TO BE SMASHED BENEATH THE SPECTRAL MACE OF MY… MACE HOOF, I DECLARE YOU MUST AID ME – I MEAN REGGIE – BEFORE MIDNIGHT TONIGHT."

"What in the name of Celestia is he talking about?" asked a pony with a two-tone mane, looking around with open eyes despite Trixie's earlier order. "Why would you refuse to help a ghost?"

"Yeah, I thought you helped ghosts," chimed in the pegasus from the first séance. "You should really help that Reggie."

"I wasn't even invited, and I think that too!" shouted a pony from the entranceway.

"What are you even doing here if you weren't invited?"

"The door was open so I just wandered in off the street," the pony said with a shrug.

Everypony shot glares his way, and he slowly backed out, closing the door as he did so.

"Enough!" shouted Trixie, flinging her arms open. Her hat lost balance and fell to the floor as she panted. "Look, Sir _Reg_ulus, I don't play by the rules of normal mediums. I don't have to help anyone!"

"OH. WELL THEN, PREPARE TO BE SMASHED. YES, I HAVE MY SPECTRAL MACE. RIGHT HERE. RAISING IT. IT'S VERY SPECTRAL. AND MACEY. GET READY TO BE SMASHED TO LITTLE, BITE-SIZED MORTAL BITS." The ponies broke their hoof-circle and dived to the floor, trembling in fear. "OKAY, I DON'T REALLY HAVE A SPECTRAL MACE. UM, I DO HAVE A SPECTRAL PARROT. VERY CHATTY."

"M-mister Clackers?" The pegasus's mouth hung open and she was beginning to well up with tears

"No, Polly. Good guess though!" The voice had lost a considerable amount of volume and was now more like the Reginald Trixie had met earlier. "Look, Trixie," he continued, "here's the deal: I'm going to keep ruining your life unless you help me. I really, really, _really_ wish it hadn't come to this. Sooo!"

"Meet me outside," Trixie growled through gritted teeth.

Reggie was waiting for her outside, leaning on a fence post, his wavery not-quite-there shadow long in the setting sun. "Oh, there she is. Mare of the hour, this one."

"You ruined the most profitable day I've had in months!"

"Well to be honest, how much is your fault? I mean, normally you ask for bits in advance. This time you didn't…" He smiled. It was a narrow smile, with little of the charm he had once held.

"Just stick a hoof in it for one minute!" Trixie stamped the ground, snorting in rage. "If you can do that fancy Royal Canterlot voice and scare my customers half to death, why can't you do whatever it is you want me to do?"

Reggie shook his head, mane swishing. "There are rules, and rules within rules. And then there are rules inside those rules. It's all very confusing, even for a spirit. I can't manifest without help in front of a loved one. I didn't know anyone in there, so it was easy. I need… I need to see my wife, one last time. Before I, you know… canter off into the light, go to Marevana, roast in the eternal furnace of the sun or whatever it is spirits do. I need a medium. I need _you._"

She blinked. The idea that ghosts really existed was off-putting enough, but this… This gave her a strange feeling, deep down inside. She just couldn't wrap her mind around it. They were real. They had _families_. Families they loved, and wanted to be with again.

And she… she had spent a good deal of her life making a mockery of the very concept. She had made money, hoofful after hoofful, off other people's misery. All they wanted was closure, and she gave them a spiteful farce in return. How many times had the real spirits been there, so very close, and yet unable to cross the hollow between them?

A deeper, more subtle pang of sorrow slid between her ribs, knife-like in its pain. Her own family… Had they stood at that hollow, yearning to speak to her one last time?

Trixie looked down and sheepishly scuffed the ground, kicking up dust. "Who is she?" Her voice was low, humble. Had she looked up, she would've seen Reggie's expression change from one of irritation and grief to one of surprise and, ultimately, joy.

"Well, it's… heh, it's sort of the reason I sought you out. Her name's Lovelace."

Trixie paused at the door to Lovelace's house. She felt like a character in a story – coming full circle to the beginning again. She wasn't a character in a story, though. This was something she had to do herself.

Raising a hoof, she rapped on the door. For a long moment Trixie worried that nopony would answer. Her heart was racing, spiders of anxiety crawling down her spine.

"Don't worry, she's there," Reggie said, his voice pitched high with nervousness.

The door opened. Lovelace frowned, a puzzled stare overtaking her face. "Trixie? Is something wrong?"

"In a way," Trixie said, walking in past the pony. "I need to talk to you about the other day." She glanced over at Reggie, who was halfway through the door. "I… I lied to you. About the ritual. About the ghost."

Lovelace's face clouded over. "You lied? You mean there wasn't even a ghost?" Anger filled her voice.

"There was." Trixie's eyes went to Reggie again. His ears were flattened, head hanging low. "But you were never in any danger. He just wanted to…" Her voice caught. She couldn't do it. She couldn't act as a medium for something this intimate. She froze in panic, feeling the angry stares from both mare and stallion.

A voice in her a head, a voice like her mother's spoke: _"You know what to do, Beatrice. You've done it countless times before. I believe in you."_ Something clicked. The formulae for a spell long-forgotten floated to the top of her mind. Trixie knew what to do. Her horn glowed, and she began casting the spell. As the slithering power reached its apex, she grasped hold of it with an invisible fist and looped it.

A soft pinkish-purple glow filled the room, and outlined Reggie. Lovelace gasped, and took a step back. "Reginald?"

Reggie blinked twice and then craned his neck to look at himself. "Wh– you– Trixie, she can see me!"

"I know," Trixie said, grimacing from the strain. "I can't keep it up much longer. You need to hurry."

Reggie stepped closer to Lovelace. "Lovelace… I've missed you so much."

Lovelace blinked back tears. "Reggie… You've been gone so long. It's been so hard without you."

"I know," he said. "I've been here, watching. I've wanted be there for you. I tried, but you couldn't see me." His voice shook. "I don't have much time, but I need to say this. I know I didn't say it half as much as I should've, and when I did I never meant it half as much as I should have.

"I love you." His voice was shaking.

"I love you too."

Tears trickled down Reggie's face, nearly invisible on his ghostly form. "I never got to say that, you know. Before I… I just stormed out, still mad. The last thing I knew when it happened was regret. I'm sorry for what happened."

Lovelace caressed his cheek with her hoof, shushing him softly. She drew him to in an embrace, their lips pressing together. Reggie's tail fluttered as he returned the kiss.

There was no sound, no theatrical exit. Reggie simply faded until he vanished, like the last bits of fog blown away by the wind.

Trixie's legs nearly gave out beneath her. The act of reversing an invisibility spell and keeping it that way was more exhausting than anything she had done before. She sat there for a few long moments, trying to catch her breath. When she finally looked up, Lovelace was close by, a smile on her face and shining, red-rimmed eyes.

"Thank you so much, Trixie!" she shouted, engulfing the unicorn in a hug. "I don't know what to say!"

Trixie stiffened at first, but shortly allowed herself to relax. Her feeling of anxiety that always tainted interpersonal interactions melted to a feeling of belonging. "You don't need to thank me," she said, with great difficulty. She had no idea that six simple words could be so hard to say.

Then she did something that surprised even herself.

She took her moneybag out from her cape, and dropped it to the floor. "Here," she said. "I want you to have this back."

She hadn't done anything to deserve it, just a light show. And now she had done something nopony should have to pay for.

It was, perhaps, the nicest thing Trixie had ever done.

Lovelace stood there a while, staring at the bag Trixie had given up when she could have easily taken it with her. She looked up just in time to see the unicorn disappear out the door, lost in the setting sun.

The Quiet and Conflicted Trixie had much to think about.


End file.
